Knight Fall
by aMUSEment345
Summary: One shot. Post-ep 10X13, 'Nelson's Sparrow', with spoilers for the episode.


**Knight Fall**

_**A.N. Post-ep 10X13, 'Nelson's Sparrow', with spoilers for the episode. This is the first post-ep in very long time that wasn't written out of a need to 'fix' something. **_

It was known as the 'January thaw', even when it showed up in December. But, this year, it had come in January as expected. Temperatures approaching sixty degrees brought people staggering out of their indoor hibernation, at least for the one day, drawn to the sun and the scent of false spring in the air.

Reid almost wished it was cold again. For the past couple of years, he'd taken to long, aimless ramblings on his weekend afternoons, hoping for distraction from the thoughts that so often seemed to play on an endless loop inside his head. But he never intended for those distractions to come in human form. Reid preferred to ambulate in solitude, finding his energy too sapped when forced to conform to the niceties of human interaction. He liked to be alone.

No such luck on this fine day. The chess kids were out in full force, taking advantage of the inviting weather, just like everyone else.

"Spencer! Come and play, Spencer!" When he tried to wave them off...in the friendliest possible way... he heard, "_Please_, Spencer!"

And then he also heard that internal voice. The one that reminded him about the time in his life that _he'd_ been the protégé, praying for a mentor.

So he made his way over to the chess tables, where the kids cleared out a seat for him at one of the boards. Without consulting him, they argued with one another about which of them should have the privilege on this day. Finally, a round of rock/paper/scissors decided the winner.

"Ha! Told you!" Gary's triumph was good natured. Taking the seat across from Reid, he said, "I haven't seen you since before Thanksgiving. You been busy?"

"Kind of." Using an economy of words.

"Well, we missed you. I thought maybe…..do you remember when you were trying to play through every permutation of chess moves?"

He did. It was the _first_ time Gideon had left. The time that wasn't for forever.

"Yeah, I remember. To be honest, it put me off the game for a while. I realized how alike every single game was, at its heart. It took some of the adventure out of it…some of the excitement."

Gary was still an aficionado. "I don't think that will ever happen to me. Well, maybe not until I'm your age."

In spite of himself, Reid smiled at that. If the events of the past few years of his life hadn't already started to age him, the remarks of a teenager would.

"I hope it never happens to you, Gary."

_I hope you never become chess-weary, or world-weary. I hope life is never more complicated for you than a simple game of chess in the park._

But, even as he thought it, Reid knew Gary wouldn't be spared. Life _would _get complicated, and he _would_ experience loss, and uncertainty, and unfulfilled dreams.

_No one is spared, I guess. Not unless they go first._

They started a game that wasn't all that challenging, at first. Reid's mind wasn't quite occupied enough. It wandered back to the events of a few days ago, which seemed to have become inextricably entangled with the events of a few years ago.

_I thought he might be happy. How stupid is that? I thought he might have raced back to Roanoke because he'd met someone…..someone who made him happy._

Two years ago, Spencer Reid had entered, uninvited, into membership of an exclusive club. He'd become the third member of their team to lose the woman he loved to an act of senseless violence. He'd been knocked off his foundation, unable to function, for weeks. During that time, he'd come to understand both Aaron Hotchner and Jason Gideon in a completely new way. Any professional façade had been stripped away, and only the man…..the bereft, pierced soul of the man…..remained.

For Aaron Hotchner, that had meant a paring away of his outer shell, the armor he'd donned when Haley had first left him, when she'd taken steps to end their marriage. Reid recalled how thin-skinned Hotch had been then, during that interview with a dangerous, deranged prisoner. How close his emotions had risen to the surface. And then, afterward, Reid had watched, helpless, as Hotch built a new, seemingly impenetrable shell around him. One that would shatter completely with Haley's murder. Not so impenetrable, after all.

Hotch had been different after that._ He couldn't let the shell grow back. Jack wouldn't have been able to get inside_. And so, Aaron Hotchner had returned to them, just a bit more subdued, a bit more understanding….and a bit more vulnerable.

For Jason Gideon, the story had been very different. Gideon's Sarah had already been traumatized by the delivery of a severed head during one of their cases. And yet, she'd stayed with him. Been frightened, but understanding. If he hadn't already loved her so, Gideon would have loved her just for that. Her death at the hands of one of his nemeses had completely undone the man. They'd found their killer and he was dead. Gideon had come back to the team. But he'd never been the same. Not really.

And then, he was gone. Reid had spent all night, sleeping upright in a chair in Gideon's office, waiting to play a promised game of chess. But the game had never come. Gideon had broken. And he was gone.

Just a few years ago, it had been Reid's turn, in a game he'd never agreed to play. His first, his only, love had been taken from him, right in front of his eyes. Shot, in the temple, by a bullet exiting the temple of her killer.

_Gideon was shot in the temple, too. Why does a temple have to be so vulnerable? Isn't a temple supposed to be strong enough to contain God?_

Like Hotch, he'd been devastated. Like Gideon, he'd distanced himself from the rest. And, seeing those similarities in his moments of self-reflection, Reid had begun to measure his own chances of recovery against those of his fellow members of the club.

Hotch had found love again, with Beth. No matter that she was a great distance away. No matter whether they were even still together. The very prospect of being able to love again was what mattered to Reid.

That's why he'd jumped to that conclusion. The one that had thrown him off, at first. He'd thought that maybe Gideon had come running back to Roanoke because he'd found a chance to be happy, too. Not because he'd found a long-sought unsub. But because, just maybe, he'd found happiness. Or happiness had found him. If only he'd stopped long enough for it to do so.

_I just imagined it, because I hoped…. I hoped it for him, because that might mean it was possible for me. But now…._

Reid's hope had been shattered, along with his illusory image of Jason Gideon living a life of fulfillment. He hadn't seen the man in years, hadn't communicated with him at all since he'd found that letter…..

'_I think you need to read that letter again, and ask yourself why, of all the people he walked away from, did he only explain himself to one person: you.'_

Emily. It had been Emily who'd challenged him on it, after the _first_ time he'd made the long, lonely drive under an eerie night sky. When he'd been worried about Gideon, concerned that something had happened to him up in his remote cabin in the woods. Concerned that the 'thing' that might have 'happened to him' might be Gideon, himself.

It had been Emily. When he'd wanted to claim the privilege of feeling sorry for himself, Emily had pointed out the obvious.

'_I think you need to read that letter again, and ask yourself why, of all the people he walked away from, did he only explain himself to one person: you.'_

Emily, also loved, and lost. But, unlike Gideon, she _was_ still somewhere in the world, holding it together for him.

_Please, please, please. If You're up there, please don't take her, too. I don't need to see her. I just need to know she's there._

"Spencer? It's your move."

Startled, Reid brought his eyes back into focus.

"Sorry."

It took him another half as long as usual to regain his concentration, but he made his move and hit the timer. Then fell back into his reverie.

The letter. The one he'd been able to recite back, verbatim, to JJ and Garcia and Kate, after nearly eight years. The one where Gideon had declared his love for Sarah. _At least he told her. Didn't he?_

There hadn't really been all that much to the case. The finding of Gideon's killer had been almost anticlimactic. Even his death at Rossi's hands hadn't seemed as important to Reid as the fact that his world had changed. Become lesser, smaller. Less steady on its axis.

Jason Gideon had loomed large in the life of Spencer Reid. And his death would, no doubt, be life-altering.

At the beginning, Gideon had been something of a savior to Reid. He'd rescued the young man from an uncertain future, and promised him a chance to make a difference with his life. The fatherless boy …..and Reid had been, in so many ways, still a boy…..had latched onto Gideon, idolized him, come to love him. They were, to all other eyes, mentor and protégé. But, within the relationship, there had been a measure of father and son.

Nearly all sons develop unrealistic images of their fathers. They make them into heroes, men who are brave, and trustworthy, and unfailing. Men without faults. Spencer Reid had wasted no such false images on his own biological father. But with Gideon, it had been different. Reid had seen him as a virtual knight of the round table….righteous, fighting the good fight, inviting his 'son' to join in the brotherhood. And Reid had eagerly accepted the invitation.

In time, and with the example of men like Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan for comparison, Reid had developed a more realistic sense of who Gideon was. And perhaps, of who he once had been. The young genius had come to realize that Gideon's knighthood wasn't always unsullied. That he, himself, was sometimes being invited to play Sancho Panza to Gideon's Don Quixote, the knight tilting at the virtual windmill. And, like all sons, he'd reevaluated his image of his mentor/father. He'd seen the flaws. And he'd loved the man anyway.

"Spencer?"

Reid startled again. Seeing the disappointment and frustration on Gary's face, he apologized.

"Sorry. I guess I'm just not on my game today."

"Haven't you been playing? When was the last time you touched a chess piece?"

The question brought a regretful smile to Reid's lips. It had been just a few days ago, in fact. In a cabin in the mountains. Reid had stood over Gideon's chessboard, and seen the unfinished game. It had seemed so pathetic, at the time, that Gideon should have had to leave a game unfinished, and un-won. Standing over the board, Reid had fingered just the one piece. The knight.

And then he'd driven home, a long drive made longer by the tears that kept blurring the road ahead. The image of the chessboard stayed with him, for some reason. The unfinished game. As though it was telling him something. But it wasn't until he awakened in the middle of that night that he understood.

_It was set up. He _kept_ it set up. In case I would see it, some day. It was the game we played on the plane, that day. My birthday. When he gave me those tickets. It was the first time I ever beat him, but I'd always thought he'd _let_ me win that day, as another birthday gift. _

But, in the midnight dark, a revelation had come to Reid.

_He didn't let me win. That wasn't how he did things. I did it on my own. I beat the master. I became the equal, and not the squire. He left that game set up in his cabin to tell me that again, to remind me. He didn't leave a letter this time. He told me with the game._ His_ knight had to fall, but the game isn't over. It can still be won._

It told Reid something else, as well.

_He didn't forget about me. Just as I didn't forget about him. Just as I never will._

He wouldn't forget about Jason Gideon. And he wouldn't let his life's work be in vain. Nor his life's example.

Reid looked into eyes of the eager young man sitting across from him, and smiled.

"You're right, Gary. I haven't kept up my game. But it looks like you have. Why don't you show me what you've learned?"


End file.
